Cee sat in contemplation of his kingdom.  He was an orange and white domestic tabby.  He was vaguely box shaped.  He had a heavy ruff around his neck that told other cats that he was a full grown unaltered tom cat.  His fur was clean, but had tuffs of fur missing and scars criscrossing his body.  His ear had been mangled by his last worthy opponent.

His territory was larger that people suspected. He owned the land bordered by the river, Dundonald Street, and Regent Street.

Right now he was in his favorite spot behind the apartment at 110 Church street.  The house had a good vibe and many of his subjects that lived there would bring him food offerings.

In his long life he had encountered many humans who were not so kind.  When he was younger, he had been trapped and beaten by a gang of teenagers.  One of them snuffed out his cigarette on Cee's head.  He still had a circular scar to show for it.  The teenagers then covered him with axel greese and tied cans to his tail. They had left him for dead on the abandoned tracks below the university.

He was found by Laura.  She spoke quietly and gently.  She found an old beach towl to wrap him in.  He was in no shape to fight back. She carefully cleaned the grease off his fur. She managed to untie the cans.  She gave him some warm moist food to eat.  Then she left him alone.  That was the greatest thing she could have done.  He was allowed to heal at his own pace.  He healed then left.  He chose to settle his territory near her. Anytime time he felt that human were beyond redemtion, he remembered her kindness and understanding.

But he never forgot the gang of teenagers.